WHY MBA CAN ALSO STAND FOR MARRIAGE BLOWN AGAIN.

With it come all the treats. Ralph Lauren cologne, Kona coffee beans and a night too many on the town.

Such occasional excesses cause her eyes to become blurry-especially when discovering a negative balance in her eelskin checkbook.

Greens (better known as cold, hard cash) are an essential ingredient to any diet, according to the recommendations of any aspiring Yuppie.

On the first date, as in any business relationship, they gloss over credentials. He holds a degree from the London School of Economics and has worked as some sort of financial consultant for the past five or six years. She holds a reputation for turning 2 and 2 into 8, as well as an obscure degree from Harvard.

On their second date (interview?), he says rather authoritatively that when he marries he wants the upper hand in all money matters. Fiscal lapse in her synapses or not, she voices her concern.

Long ago she got over the clinical aspect of dating. In her early 30s, she finds her dating victims often believe in the adage ''Time is money'' as much as she.

Dinner conversations are analyzed as quickly as one scans a stock market report. Scores are tallied. Physical attributes are a perk.

Smart, she thinks. Not vapid. A good reason to instigate a merger. But then she thinks back to the money issue. It`s tough to make an instant decision when he wants to control how much Evian water she buys. And she debates how he`d feel about her recent jaunt to Tahiti.

Rules of the road

He takes a long drag of his Gauloise and puffs in her direction. ''I loathe extravagance of any sort,'' he says with a straight face.

''Furthermore, I`d sincerely question if a girl were to make a major purchase without consulting me first.''

A merger is no longer possible. It`s getting time to foreclose. ''And precisely what constitutes a major purchase?'' she asks briskly.

''Shoes,'' he says matter-of-factly.

She looks down at his shined wingtips.

''Imagine,'' he says hostilely, ''I`m working my derriere off and all she does is throw around my money.''

She thinks back to the scenario. ''Isn`t your imaginary Stepford wife working?''

''Of course,'' he says.

''Then why should she consult you to buy anything?''

He raises his left eyebrow and snorts in mock outrage.

''Look, maybe we`re too different. But I think a man should control the money. It`s that simple.''

Who`s in control now?

The waiter stops at their table. ''May I get you anything more?'' he asks.

''Just the check,'' he says. Moments later, the check arrives. He squints as he looks at the bill. He takes out his Louis Vuitton wallet and finds it empty. ''Uh, could you pay? I`m out of cash,'' he says without a hint of embarrassment.

She combs her hair with her fingers in confusion. She quickly rifles through her leather bag. Her appointment book cover blares ''1990.''

Her eyes weary, she takes out some cash to pay the bill. ''Hey, that won`t cover it,'' he says nervously.